


It's like marrow without bone (To live in a house with no home)

by Dividedpoet



Series: Throw me a lifeline ('Cause honey I got nothing to lose): The Ballad of Bone Dry - A Bucky/Darcy Coffee Shop AU [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, Retrograde Amnesia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dividedpoet/pseuds/Dividedpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bucky stares at Darcy for a few moments before he speaks. "So what I got out of that is you were in some kind of witness protection program--"</i>
</p><p>  <i>"More like we were bribed to relocate, but we didn't have to change our names or anything," Darcy interjects.</i></p><p>  <i>"--and you may or may not have been on the run from a psychotic Norwegian prince with brainwashing capability?" Bucky finishes.</i></p><p>  <i>Darcy arches any eyebrow, "You're actually focused on all the parts I was hoping to gloss over but, yeah, that about sums it up."</i></p><p>  <i>"Huh," Bucky grunts.</i></p><p>Part Three of my Bucky/Darcy Coffee Shop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> An: I apologize for how slow I have been to post. I've been working on this part for months and I came to the sudden realization today that if I don't start posting god knows how much longer I'll take. So, I will be posting this part in chapters and they will be labeled by day. This will start the day the last left off on.
> 
> I did my best to science, to make an attachment like Bucky's seem real world. There are a few key differences, such as where the metal stops and how much of his arm he lost. Otherwise, it looks the same...oh, no star. That's on his head in scar form yeeeeah...
> 
> Thank you to anyone that's waited me out and I also wanted to thank all the wonderful people that have been commenting and leaving kudos on the other two parts. I get those in the morning and they always bring me right back to working on the story. 
> 
> Oh! And I wanted to thank Wynn for extending me a hand in this fandom. I can't even explain what that means to me. <3
> 
> The titles is from "Curs in the Weeds" by Horse Feathers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
> 
> Now being beta'd by the amazing, [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks)

**Monday:**

Darcy and Bucky spend most of the morning in bed but by eleven they've made it out to the livingroom. They're curled up on the couch watching the weather channel ( _still in the teens and snowing but predicting sun and a temperature rise the next morning_ ) when Bucky notices Darcy's focus is on the exposed length of his prosthetic.

She hadn't given his arm much attention. Now she runs her hand over it, emboldening when she sees him watching her, from the tips of his fingers to the bend at his elbow where his sweatshirt sleeve is pushed up. She finds the grooves and seems to create patterns. Bucky registers pressure on the limb, but with his eyes fixed on her hand he imagines he can feel her fingertips.

"Is it-was it all in one fell swoop or..." she begins vaguely but trails off. Bucky understands what she's asking.

"It was treated like a typical amputation, I guess," he says softly. "The prosthetic was attached after."

"Attached? Ow." Darcy shivers and Bucky shrugs.

"Eh."

"And how's it attach?" Darcy asks. "I mean, I've seen prosthetics before but..." she pauses, her own hand stroking over his metal one. "Your control, dexterity, whatever, it's ridiculous. Plus, you know, _attached._ "

At that Bucky sits forward, moving away from Darcy. She sits up on the couch and faces him, clearly confused. He unzips his sweatshirt and takes it off, then shucks the t-shirt he threw on that morning. When he settles into his spot again Darcy still looks confused. 

Bucky chuckles and holds his arm out, "Gimme your hand." She does without hesitation, eyes lighting up with curiosity. He takes her hand and guides it. "So, my arm was severed about two inches below the joint," he sets her hand at the top of his prosthetic. "It looks almost normal as far as attachment goes...or it would if it wasn't metal. I mean, with the limb fitted around what's left of my arm. But if you feel," he slides one of her fingers so it's pressing into the skin just above. 

He imagines the buildup of scar tissue startles her because she jerks as if she's going to pull away. She doesn't.

"My LORD," she says, her other fingers going to the skin as well. "How the hell-"

"There are teeth," he cuts her off and then he's lifting her hand so she can see. "Here, where it looks like there's a gap that would leave room for the limb to slide off, it's a false front. There are tines and a rod attaching the arm-"

"Jesus Christ-"

"And these." He moves her hand again, guiding it over his pec.

He can tell when she feels one because her eyebrows furrow, "What _is_ that?"

"Kind of a silicon electrode. They're inserted and attached to the muscles that help my arm movements. They send impulses to the limb and, nine times out of ten, it does what I want."

Darcy looks up at his face and arches an eyebrow, "Nine times out of ten, huh?"

Bucky purses his lips, "Yep."

"What about that one time?"

"Well, I have trouble with my fingers sometimes. Finger movements are controlled in the forearm and palm. There's muscle bracing that can control the fingers and forearm with this limb but it's something I had to get the hang of. When I slip things tend to break." Bucky shrugs, "Usually happens when I tense, the signals sent to the prosthetic are confused."

"So...I'm voting we keep lefty away from my lady bits. Just throwing that out there." The words are dry but Darcy smirks as she says them and tension Bucky didn't know he was holding releases.

"Duly noted."

Darcy moves her hand now, sliding it up his pec and over his shoulder, stopping where the metal begins. When she leans down and kisses the skin above his prosthetic Bucky's eyes flutter closed.

"Hey, don't go falling asleep on me, now. I say we still have a solid six hours of sex and Xbox to keep us occupied."

Bucky shakes his head and opens his eyes. "'M not falling asleep," he says, reaching his right hand out to run his fingers through Darcy's hair. He thinks about his life not even a week before, his occasional interactions with this woman the highlight of his day. At the realization he knows next to nothing about her life before this town, words come tumbling out. "What were you doing before you moved here?" he asks without notice or preamble. 

Darcy tenses and Bucky flinches at his lacking tact but doesn't say anything, letting his hand drop from her hair while he waits. She begins speaking with measured words. "I, uh, I moved here from West Virginia with my friend Jane. I got my undergrad from a little school there called Culver University. All about that science life, at Culver. Um..." She pauses, "Jane...Jane's a, well, Jane's kind of a mess but it-" Darcy cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. That's when Bucky notices she's shaking.

"Darcy," he says calmly, hand reaching for her again.

As soon as Bucky touches Darcy it's as if she deflates, then she's off. "It's kind of a fucked up situation. I mean, it isn't but it could be. I don't know if you remember a few years ago, all that stuff with Norway?"

Bucky considers her question before he remembers reading the stories in the paper. "Uh, yeah, when there was that public exiling of the prince for treason?" Darcy nods but doesn't say anything so Bucky continues with what he remembers of the situation. "They, uh, but didn't they end up demanding him back when they found out the next son in line was actually adopted and committed the crime?" Darcy nods again and rolls her hand to indicate Bucky continue. 

Suddenly he feels as if he's sitting in his International Relations class...which is startling considering he didn't remember he'd taken International Relations. 

"Woah," he says, shaking his head in surprise before continuing, "Um...he's in jail now. Didn't he kidnap some people from Oslo and brainwash them?" More nodding from Darcy. "So, what does this have to do with where you moved from?"

"Well, turns out my little science nerd, Jane, spent a semester studying at a University in Norway before I met her. She got all _groin-y_ with a smoking hot piece of prince meat. I didn't know it then but I found out. Would you like to know how I found out? I'll tell you. Thor showed up at our apartment complex. He was waiting in our parking spot when we came back from dinner one night. I swear Jane almost ran him over with her van." She shakes her head. "Anyway, they proceeded to get groin-y in our apartment for a few days until these other ridiculously beautiful people showed up."

Bucky can't help himself, "Thor? His name is Thor?"

Darcy waves her free hand at him. "Tall, blond, blue eyes, muscles for days. He's Thor in my mind. Plus his name is something consonant-y. I don't try." Bucky rolls his eyes as Darcy takes a breath. "So, said beauties showed up and told Thor he needed to go home because his brother wasn't his brother and on top of that his non-brother had gone bat shit. I'm not really sure what happened after that other than, you know, he left. About eight months ago a few jackbooted thugs showed up and told Jane she needed to leave because she might not be safe in the city anymore. I'd already gotten into school here so they paid for me to leave early and she came with me. When they caught the crazy quasi-bro just before school started, well, I was relieved to say the least," Darcy finishes, laughing nervously at the last part.

Bucky stares at Darcy for a few moments before he speaks. "So what I got out of that is you were in some kind of witness protection program--"

"More like we were bribed to relocate, but we didn't have to change our names or anything," Darcy interjects.

"--and you may or may not have been on the run from a psychotic Norwegian prince with brainwashing capability?" Bucky finishes.

Darcy arches an eyebrow, "You're actually focused on all the parts I was hoping to gloss over but, yeah, that about sums it up."

"Huh," Bucky grunts, going over the story in his mind. Darcy starts shifting next to him, clearly restless. She gasps when Bucky suddenly pulls her into his lap. "Cease, woman, you're making me anxious. I'm just trying to decide how worried I should be about this."

Darcy rolls her eyes, "You shouldn't worry at all." She flinches, "I mean, at least not now. It might have been pointed a few months ago but it's all pointless now."

Bucky runs a hand down the side of her face, pausing with a thumb on her bottom lip. "You take a lot of things in stride, Darc. I can't decide if that should scare me."

Darcy presses her lips into a smile under his touch and glances down at her lap, "I guess I just figure, things happen. Work through it, yeah. But you can't change what's happened, you can only change how you react to it."

Bucky kisses her then, hand swept under her jaw and prosthetic tight around her waist. When their mouths part he whispers in her ear, "I'm gonna take you back to bed now." Darcy just nods and lets Bucky scoop her up.

As they pass into the bedroom Darcy snorts, "Bionic boys are the best."

Bucky tosses her on the bed before following. Darcy squeals but her thighs spread to accommodate him. Clothes fall to the floor around the bed. There are mouths and skin and dear _lord_ there are Darcy's fingers wrapping around him. Her eyelashes flutter and her lips part in a gasp when the fingers of Bucky's right hand weave through her hair to tug lightly.

This. This is real and pure. A kind of purity that comes from hope and curiosity. Bucky would like to live in this world forever.

Around seven, after they've eaten twice and had an impromptu nap while watching the snow through Bucky's bedroom window, Darcy sighs, "I hate to say it, but I think it's time, man." The snow stopped about twenty minutes before and they'd been waiting to see if it held.

Bucky nods, pushing himself off the couch where they'd relocated after making use of Bucky's bed again in a more energetic way. "Alright. Just gimme a minute."

Darcy arches an eyebrow, "For what?"

"Putting clothes on..."

"Again I say, for what?"

"So I'm not cold when I walk you home...?"

The look Darcy gives him at that is something akin to what one might expect when asking one to walk over nails. "Why are you walking me home? You're home. Why should you have to walk back home when you're already here?"

At that Bucky arches his eyebrow. "Because it could start snowing and you live on the other side of campus," he says, his voice devoid of tone.

"Oh."

Her response, doe eyed, quiet, and entirely sarcastic, causes Bucky to snort then sigh. "Look, I can't send you out into the darkness of a possible blizzard by yourself. My mother would somehow find out and drive down from Cranford to castrate me. Plus, it gives me an excuse to check on the shop."

Darcy mulls this over for a moment before relenting, "Fine, but I would like to point out that I am a woman, with a taser, fully capable of crossing the campus by myself and if a blizzard comes there isn't much you can do for me."

They reach Darcy’s building and she invites him in for a cup of coffee to warm up before his walk back. Bucky never does get that coffee; Darcy’s roommate isn’t home so he fucks Darcy against her bedroom door. 

"That kind of gives me closure for the time I found out she’d hit it on my desk," Darcy comments afterwards.

Bucky chuckles. "Tit for taint," he says, buttoning and zipping up his jeans.

Darcy rolls her eyes as she pulls on a pair of pajama pants she retrieved from her room. "Gross, dude."

"Whatever, that was funny." Bucky perches on the end of the couch and starts loosening the laces on his shoes so he can pull them on.

"...a little funny. But the classless kind, like when you're trying to take a picture of one of those little crocodile sculptures in the subway and suddenly a homeless woman pulls her pants down to pee next to it."

"That was oddly specific."

"You don't know my life."

Bucky has to pause in tying his shoes to stifle a laugh.

"You know," Darcy begins after Bucky has resumed breathing. "You're welcome to stay. I'm not trying to draw out our lost weekend. I'm just saying, you seem kind of clingy and I don’t want you to feel used. I know how delicate you boy types can be." She finishes her statement with a wink.

Bucky finishes tying his shoes and is up and in front of Darcy, crowding into her space with his right hand cupping the side of her neck and his prosthetic settling on her hip. "You are absolutely right," he begins, "But if I stay the night I'm not going to make it to the shop in the morning." He kisses her then, soft and sweet and nothing like pounding her against her roommate's bedroom door. 

Bucky pulls back and Darcy still has her eyes closed. A few seconds pass before she says, "Understandable.”

The question comes out before Bucky can help himself, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Darcy opens her eyes, smiles, and leans in to kiss him one more time, "Why don’t you wait and find out."


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _By the time the crowd dies down the shop has been open for about an hour and a half. The two finally have a chance to sit down behind the counter and sip on their doctored cups of coffee like the Russian descendants they are when Bucky speaks. His words are so quiet he doesn't know if Natasha will hear him over the early morning sounds of keys clacking and conversation between patrons, "Mrs. Middleton taught International Relations freshman year."_
> 
> _Out of the corner of his eye he sees Natasha has frozen with her cup halfway to her lips. "You never asked me what class we took together," Natasha says after a moment, eyes now boring into his skin._
> 
> _"I know. I remembered."_
> 
> _"James-"_
> 
> _"Yesterday," he says, cutting her off. "While Darcy and I were talking. At first it was just the class. But then there was a name and then I could see your black backpack with the weird red hourglass hanging on the back of a chair a couple of rows in front of me."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I almost didn't make it! But I was so determined to put another chapter out tonight! I hope you enjoy it. :-D
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that has commented or given me kudos!

**Tuesday:**

The lights are on when Bucky approaches the shop. It takes him a moment to remember Natasha’s back in town and then he’s hot footing it for the door. As he expects it's open and everything is already running when he walks in.

Natasha rises from behind the bar with a bottle in Cyrillic and two cups of coffee just after the bell rings. “Is today an important one for you or can we make this a Russian Tuesday?”

Bucky snorts. “Sure, why not. What’s the point of being the boss if you can't exhibit the signs of alcoholism openly...” he says, shaking his head.

Natasha gives an affirming nod and adds liquor to their coffees. “So, I got an interesting call from Steve on Sunday.”

Bucky freezes in the process of dropping his things behind the bar. “Um-”

“I think you broke him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “He’s not a cheap children's toy.”

“No, but sometimes vaginas make him nervous and you greeted him with a half naked girl. I bet it was very jarring.”

Bucky groans, "That was all her doing." There's a finality to his tone; he really doesn't want to have this conversation.

Natasha moves from behind the counter and settles into one of the shop’s oversized chairs, tucking her feet up. Then there’s staring. Bucky pours a little more coffee in his vodka because it's only _five in the morning, Christ_ and Natasha stares. He decides to move his jacket to his office, and she stares. She takes a sip from her cup. And stares.

Bucky growls. “Jesus. What do you want to know, woman?”

“Everything.”

“Lies. You wanna know whatever incriminates me.”

Natasha clears her throat delicately and Bucky sighs. “Four years ago you came to me and you told me you couldn’t do it any more. That every person you added to your list just made it worse.” Her words are so measured it takes Bucky a moment to realize he’s being scolded. “So why don’t you explain to me how you justify locking yourself up with the little girl on your first date.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and ducks down to start unpacking the delivery to fill the pastry case. “Okay, for starters, she’s not a little girl. She’s only a few years younger than I am. Secondly, those circumstances were kind of specific.”

“Yes, they were. But you get attached. You fall for unavailable women and you-”

“Which brings me to lastly,” Bucky interrupts. He pauses in what he’s doing to stand and take a gulp from his mug. “I think...well, I think this one likes me back," he says after he swallows.

Natasha arches an eyebrow but Bucky can see the flinch in the _absence_ of a flinch.

“Don’t look at me like that. I am a grown man, you know.”

“I know you are,” Natasha says and Bucky directs a sly grin at her.

“You think maybe you aren’t just jealous?” Bucky winks but Natasha doesn’t smile.

“James,” she says quietly. Bucky’s own smile drops.

He braces his hands on the counter and takes a couple breaths before he speaks. “I like her, Tash,” he says, catching her eye, “I like her smile, her wit.” He arches an eyebrow, “I like the fact that she has no memory of me passed out in Steve and Bruce’s bathroom in a silk robe.”

“We can always fix that.”

He relaxes his stance, turning away to break down the delivery box and throw it in the recycle bin. “I’d really rather not.”

Natasha sighs. "I don't want to see you go through that again," she says, suddenly somber.

"A silk robe phase?"

"James."

"Sorry, we're serious now. I can't keep up," Bucky says, rolling his eyes as he comes over to take the seat next to her. 

Natasha matches his eye roll. "This is for your own good, you tool. Take my concern and be damn grateful for it," and then she smacks him on the back of the head and Bucky immediately regrets his ill timed relaxation.

"Christ woman," Bucky exclaims, rubbing his scalp. "Did you turn your ring around? I think I'm bleeding." Natasha rolls her eyes again and Bucky settles back in his chair. Before he can get too comfortable the bell on the main door dings, signifying the start of his early morning crowd. 

Natasha doesn’t say anything more on the previous subject.

For the next hour a steady stream of people come by with visions of espresso dancing in their heads. By six Natasha hops on the bar because she wants something to do and also because, "I taught you how to work that machine. Don't look at me like this is my first rodeo. You have a customer, James. Please don't make the line any longer."

By the time the crowd dies down the shop has been open for about an hour and a half. The two finally have a chance to sit down behind the counter and sip on their doctored cups of coffee like the Russian descendants they are when Bucky speaks. His words are so quiet he doesn't know if Natasha will hear him over the early morning sounds of keys clacking and conversation between patrons, "Mrs. Middleton taught International Relations freshman year."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Natasha has frozen with her cup halfway to her lips. "You never asked me what class we took together," Natasha says after a moment, eyes now boring into his skin.

"I know. I remembered."

"James-"

"Yesterday," he says, cutting her off. "While Darcy and I were talking. At first it was just the class. But then there was a name and then I could see your black backpack with the weird red hourglass hanging on the back of a chair a couple of rows in front of me."

Natasha is back to staring at him, but rather than reproachful it's evaluating. She doesn't comment on his revelation at first, which unnerves Bucky more than anything. When she does it's careful, measured, and not what he expects. "I know you stopped going to group."

"The fuck, Tash," he hisses. The reaction is automatic and as soon as it leaves his lips Bucky pulls himself back and takes a deep breath. "How exactly do you know that?"

"Clint."

"Fuck that mouthy little bitch."

"He told me because he cares. I'd appreciate it if you'd tone down the righteous indignation," she says, rolling her eyes.

"It's not righteous indignation. It's a perfectly understandable reaction to you digging your nose into my shit and then using that shit to sniff out my life choices," Bucky bites out. 

Natasha shakes her head, "You act like they're unrelated. They're not. You're remembering things, you should be going to group."

Bucky actually kicks the counter. It's not an angry kick, more frustration than anything. Still, a couple of customers startle and he regrets it. "I hate group. They're all so whiny and depressing," he says quietly.

"But they understand - " Natasha begins.

"What, what do they understand? Forgetting? Sure, they get that. A room full of people that _understand_ what it's like to forget. But the other shit, that's all on me. Unless you can find me a group for ex-government secret military, I have to deal with that all on my lonesome," Bucky says. 

Natasha narrows her eyes, "On your lonesome, huh?"

He sighs, "You know what I mean."

"No," Natasha says, tone flat. "What I know is that you’re just as whiny as those people who _understand_. Get over it. Go back to group."

"Fine." His tone has the petulance of a two year old. Still, Natasha seems satisfied. Bucky takes a sip of his coffee before posing his next question. "So, how is Bruce doing? Really," he asks.

Natasha quirks her lips into this little smile, At least, at first it looks to Bucky like she's smirking. But, upon closer inspection he sees it is in fact a grimace. Her following words seal it. "It won't let go. That fucker has wiggled itself in there and doesn't want to let go." She runs a hand over her face. "It hasn't metastasized but they can't get it to go away entirely either," she says.

"Can they operate?" Bucky asked.

Natasha nods solemnly. "They can, and they've mentioned it. But the concern is damaging the pituitary gland. Right now, technically, the mood swings aren't permanent. But if they damage the gland - "

"Bye bye temporary crazy, hello Mr. Hyde?"

"Right."

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, "Wait, so what's keeping his mood swings under control right now?" he asks.

Natasha purses her lips, "Radiation to reduce the size, some hormone stabilizing medication, and more hippie stuff than I am honestly comfortable with but all the more power to him," she says.

Bucky shrugs. "He's not beating my face in. If he keeps that up, I'll be happy."

Another flinch and Bucky files this away as 'Too soon.'

Around eight Natasha must see the way Bucky keeps glancing at the door because she clears off her stool behind the bar and begins to put on her coat and scarf. 

“You could stay, you know,” Bucky says quietly. “Meet her.”

“Another time, James. And I’ll tell Bruce you say hi.” Natasha kisses him on the cheek and she's gone.

When Darcy walks into the shop at nine she's all aflutter like it's business as usual. "Sweet baby Jesus am I not ready to present to a panel today. Could you just hook up an IV to caffeinate me? I don't think I have time to lift the cup." Her five is in hand and already dropping into the tip jar.

Bucky catches the movement as he turns to grab Darcy's drink. "Fresh out of IVs. Just take this for now and I'll switch it out while you study," he says offhandedly, tone flat. When he turns back to Darcy, however, her eyes are fixed on him. Bucky, suddenly feeling embarrassed for his favouritism, decides to ignore it and shrug.

Darcy smiles her brightest smile at him before heading for her table to work. For the next hour, every time he makes a sweep of the floor for trash and such, he switches out Darcy's drink.

When she leaves around ten, to-go cup in hand, she stops by the counter. "You gonna ask me on a second date or what?"

Bucky can't help himself, a large smile breaks across his face. "I was going to wait a day or two, try to be less intense."

Darcy shakes her head, "It's too late for that, yo. You're firmly ensconced in my line of sight. The only course of action is constant attempts to maintain my attention."

"What are you doing tonight?"

Darcy's eyes light up but then she winces. "I actually have a hot date with a seven year old."

Bucky arches an eyebrow.

"I babysit for extra cash."

Bucky nods. "Alright, how about tomorrow night?" He asks.

This time Darcy's smile holds, "I do believe I'll be hanging out with you."

"Then it's a date."

Darcy hesitates then leans across the counter to kiss Bucky square on the mouth and three regulars that weren't in the shop on Friday wolf whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concrit is always welcome! And please feel free to tell me know if you notice any discrepancies. <3


	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This time Bucky takes Darcy to dinner. They don't take reservations but they'll bring your food over to the pool table._
> 
> _"I'm a lying liar," he says when they walk in. He holds the door open but they can already see the seat thing is out of the question._
> 
> _Darcy smiles up at him. "You still paying?"_
> 
> _"Yes ma'am."_
> 
> _"Then you are a truthing truther. Now prepare to have your ass...well, thoroughly felt up. But interspersed there will be kicking of it," Darcy says, clapping her hands together happily and heading for an empty table._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it! Also...I apologize...

**Wednesday:**

Darcy, who is stopping in for her morning coffee fix even though she's already fifteen minutes late for a lecture, insists on meeting Bucky at the shop again for their date that night.

"I don't know if it counts as a date if I don't pick you up," Bucky says offhandedly once he finishes grinding up a batch of espresso beans.

Darcy shakes her head. "I'll go ahead and ignore how sexist that sounded. Anyway, I met you here last time. What do you call that?"

Bucky rolls his eyes, "Us going back to my apartment and banging." Darcy opens her mouth and Bucky cuts her off quickly, "I'm _kidding._ That was a date in my book; dinner, viewing of some sort, kiss goodnight. We just did it backwards." The way Darcy blushes at that has Bucky fighting a grin. "But for this I was the asker, it has nothing to do with what's between your legs."

He doesn't expect Darcy's wicked grin, "Well I hope it has a little to do with what's between my legs."

"Gross," Clint calls from the other side of the bar, arms full of dirty dishes. "Gonna go ahead and request to avoid conversations about genitalia." His tone is only mostly mocking.

Darcy directs an arched eyebrow at him. "That's funny coming from someone who regularly waxes poetic about his dick."

Clint shrugs, "What can I say, it's poetry." He disappears into the back.

Darcy shakes her head. "Anyway," she continues. "I'll still be on campus. It makes more sense. You know me, all about the sensical."

Bucky sighs dramatically, "Fine. We meet. But then it's the stereotypical date things. We're talking doors held, seats pulled out, food bought."

"I've been known to partake of and enjoy those activities," Darcy says, excitement bleeding into her tone.

This time Bucky takes Darcy to dinner. They don't take reservations but they'll bring your food over to the pool table. 

"I'm a lying liar," he says when they walk in. He holds the door open but they can already see the seat thing is out of the question.

Darcy smiles up at him. "You still paying?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then you are a truthing truther. Now prepare to have your ass...well, thoroughly felt up. But interspersed there will be kicking of it," Darcy says, clapping her hands together happily and heading for an empty table.)

The waitress comes and somehow the pair end up ordering four appetizers as their meal. Well not somehow. Once the waitress has walked away, after rattling off their deep fried list of goodies, Darcy squints at Bucky who claims to be trying to rack the balls.

"You did that thing again," she says, arching an eyebrow at him.

"What thing?"

"That thing where I tell you I like something once and you remember until _forever_ ," Darcy says.

Bucky snorts. "Maybe I just like appetizers."

"You don't like sharing food! You told me," she sighs. 

This time Bucky lets loose a full chuckle. "Oh right, I forgot you knew that," he says. Then he shrugs. "I think I'll be able to manage." Darcy inhales as if she's going to speak, but he cuts her off with a kiss. "You break."

Halfway through their second game the food comes. 

"You better be happy, mister. She interrupted my stunning resurgence in - "

"Ability?" Bucky teases with a wink. 

Darcy throws a mozzarella stick at him that he promptly catches. She throws another immediately after and hits him square in the face. "I'll have you know my ability is spot on," she says before actually biting into one of the cheese sticks.

Two hours later they're on their eleventh game of pool and seven to three. Bucky snorts when Darcy calls and sinks yet another ball. "I would call you a pool shark but you warned me."

"Plus, no betting," Darcy says cheerfully. As Bucky passes behind Darcy he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her back against him, ducking to set his chin on her shoulder. "Oh! And rubbin' on man muscle. Bonus!" Bucky chuckles, enjoying her laughter. He releases Darcy to take her next ass-kicking shot. "Okay, it's honesty time," she says as she sets up. The choice of words throw him and Bucky has to quickly compensate for that in his facial features. She's relaxed, he should stay relaxed. 

When she glances up from the table he's affected his features accordingly but he can see tension around her eyes and he feels like he needs to do it again. "Um, can you skip to the main point of the honesty? I don't do revelations particularly well."

Darcy's shoulders relax and it's the opposite of what he expects. "Nothing to get your panties in a twist about," she says, a softness in her sarcasm. "But," she pauses and bites her lip. "There was slight lying partnered with omission."

Bucky arches an eyebrow and shifts back unconsciously.

Darcy frowns before looking down at the table and taking her shot. She doesn't call anything but it doesn't matter; she misses. "I have been, subtly but purposefully, trying to keep you away from my roommate," she says, straightening up.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, confused. "What?"

"I didn't want you to come by the apartment when Jane was there. And this is where we get to the honesty," Bucky's responding grunt gets some shifting from Darcy. "I-I may have filled her in on certain - "

"You told her about my head stuff," Bucky realizes suddenly. His brow is still furrowed as he tries to process that.

Darcy bounces in place. "Okay, yes."

"And she wasn't a fan, I take it," he says.

"Not particularly, no, but she may have made some suggestions on what I might do if you try to kill me in my sleep," she says, tone making it clear that he does not want her to expand on that.

Her words hit him unexpectedly low in his gut and he watches her shift a few moments longer. "What does that mean for you?"

At his question Darcy furrows her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Bucky has to fight some shifting himself. "Do you think she has a-"

"No," Darcy says. The word is severe. 

Bucky doesn't move an inch in a stubborn refusal to show his cards. "No?" he asks.

"Yeah, no," she affirms. "I like you...which means I like you. Jane won't change that."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It sounds to me like she’s worried about you,” he says. He's being honest and as he speaks he feels a clenching in his chest.

“Jane is a worrier,” Darcy says.

The clenching gets tighter. "She's your friend." His tone is flat, matter of fact. "You should listen to your friend."

Darcy snorts. "Oh please, my hypocritical friend can suck it," she says. At his continued furrowed brow she sighs. "Look, she loves me and will come around." Then she's stepping toward him and setting her stick on the table. "I am sorry. That was shiesty to share your shit. I just tell her everything about my life and then I disappeared for two days so I ended up telling her more..."

Bucky shrugs. "I understand protective friends," he says. He glances around the room, taking in intoxicated patrons and cigarette smoke. In subtle movements he manages to put the table between himself and Darcy's advancing form. "Do you wanna finish the game? Still have to open the shop in the morning."

A frown mars Darcy's features and she freezes mid-step. "Bucky - " she begins and she sounds so confused.

Bucky shakes his head. "It's fine, Darcy. It really is getting late," he says. Darcy grabs her stick off the table so Bucky can take his shot. He sinks the first one but when he goes to make a follow up he accidentally knocks in the eight ball and loses the game.

Darcy's eyes dart to the clock on the wall then back to Bucky's now tense form. "Just lemme hit the ladies and then you can get your beauty rest," she says, the words heaved out like a sigh, before she heads for the bathroom.

By the time Darcy returns from the bathroom Bucky has settled the tab and he's leaning next to the door with their jackets. Wordlessly he hands Darcy hers and they leave the bar.

They make it about two blocks before Darcy decides she can't take . “Okay, we were having a great time. Was it the fact that I got with the sharing or did Jane's comment genuinely offend you?” she asks, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk about three blocks from her building.

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out of his nose as he slows and stops a few feet away from Darcy. “Neither,” he says, turning to face her. "She's right, probably about everything."

The agitation fades off of Darcy's face and she looks confused again, but she fights to affect a smile. "You sure you wanna go with 'everything'? Because whenever we get drunk she starts going on about this -"

"About me," Bucky interrupts.

The agitation is back and Darcy continues as if he hadn't interrupted her, " - bridge. I know you meant about you I'm not a fucking moron." She sounds so angry, as if the intention in this conversation has just clicked.

Bucky sighs. "I'm gonna hurt you. This is insane. You deserve - "

"So that's it? I tell Jane about your mental state and you decide what I deserve," Darcy says, cutting him off as she focuses on a trashcan up the block.

Bucky shakes his head. "No. It's not about her or her comments, it's _about_ my mental state."

"You knew all this. All the things, the really fucked up things. You knew them. You said you weren't dangerous." She shrugs, still not looking at him. "Why even bother?" she asks, forced nonchalance clear in every syllable.

Bucky kicks at the pavement absentmindedly, eyes fixing on his shoe. "I wanted you so badly," he whispers after a pause.

Darcy's responding laugh is bitter to Bucky's ears. "Well you got me," she says. At that she starts walking again, past Bucky and up the street. He moves to follow her and she calls over her shoulder, "I will fucking taze you, you coward."

Bucky climbs into bed with a bottle of cheap vodka that night and calls Natasha. By the time she shows up he's made a serious dent in the bottle.

"I told you not to come," Bucky says when Natasha steps into his room, shedding her jacket as she walks. She's wearing yoga pants, a hoodie, and sneakers. He wonders if she ran there.

Natasha looks at him pitifully. "You started crying on the phone," she says.

"I started sniffling, which is my right as a secure man," Bucky grumbles, taking a pull from the bottle and burrowing further under his covers.

Natasha sits on the end of the bed and kicks off her shoes. "Bruce is on an overnight, I could use the company anyway," she says with a shove at his calf before she climbs up and under the covers next to him.

"Does he know you're here?" Bucky asks as she settles down next to him.

Natasha nods. "He agreed maybe you didn't need to be alone right now," she says softly.

Bucky snorts. "The good doctor," and it may have sounded sarcastic if he were sober but with the lightness of his drunken tone he just sounds sincere.

Natasha cards a hand through his hair. "James - " she starts.

Bucky shakes his head. "No. No, I don't want to talk about it anymore," he says. Another pull. "Decision's made. We're mourning now," he adds.

Natasha sighs and uses the hand previously moving through his hair to snag the bottle of vodka. She sets it on the bedside table and turns out the lamp. "Mourning, right. Close your eyes," she says softly, tugging on him

Bucky nods and lays his head on her shoulder, "Yeah, okay." He closes his eyes.


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bruce glances around the shop, the evening's previous hustle and bustle leaving the tables full but the patrons satisfied. When Bruce spots Steve, whom has finally pulled his head out of his work and is watching the two with intense curiosity, Bruce waves. "Oh hey Steve, I didn't know you'd be here," he says, because it's a Thursday and they all know how much Steve works._
> 
> _Steve smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, I decided to work from the shop today." He looks between the two. "But I have to be honest Bruce, same could be said about you." Steve smiles but Bucky can feel his unease._
> 
> _Bruce smiles back. "Fair point. I was actually wondering if I might have a chat with Bucky,” he says casually, looking back at Bucky._
> 
> _Bruce used to wear a ring on his right hand. Bucky remembers._
> 
> _“Sure,” Bucky says, nodding toward his office before looking at Steve. "Mind watching the register?"_
> 
> _Steve shakes his head, stands, and stretches. "I could use the break anyway, my head is starting to hurt." The words are light, but Bucky knows Steve is watching Bruce like a hawk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: I apologize for this chapter taking so long. These last two are definitely the ones I've been stuck on. But hopefully you'll enjoy it!

**Thursday:**

Opening his eyes three and a half hours later when his alarm sounds is one of the more difficult things Bucky has done of late. A task made more difficult by the fact that the vodka bottle is lying on its side next to him, half-empty and ashamed, and Natasha is nowhere to be found. He would love nothing more than to call Clint before curling up with the rest of that bottle. He resists this urge, climbs out of bed.

Darcy doesn't come into the shop that day. Bucky can't say it surprises him. Who wants their coffee made by a coward?

He says as much to Clint, who'd come in at ten, after he stops for lunch around noon and Bucky fills him in like a still-drunk-from-the-night-before, gossiping little girl. Clint rolls his eyes. ''Why are you doing this to yourself, dude?" he asks before biting into his BLT. "I mean, okay, you're nuts but she's willing to put up with it. That's all that matters, right?"

Bucky walks away from Clint.

"Oh come on, man," Clint says through a mouthful of food, heedless of the two customers in the shop. "Fuck whatever nosy-ass friend she has."

Bucky rolls his eyes as he sets timers for the coffee he's brewing. "She's just looking out for her," he says.

"I think if this chick were looking out for her she'd pay more attention," Clint says with a shrug. Bucky isn't quite sure what to say to that. Or maybe he just doesn't want to ask for clarification. Clarification would end in more ache. Even so, when Clint says it Bucky has to pause.

Bucky shakes his head. "Anyway, that's not the point. So she'll put up with it, my crazy shit, whatever. Awesome. Until I go off again," he whispers the last part, eyes darting to those two customers. "What then?"

At that Clint tenses. Reminders of what happened with Bucky and Natasha don't go over well with him. Still, soon his posture eases and he shrugs. "You can't not do something ‘cause you think it’ll go badly," Clint says.

Bucky accidentally crushes the timer he's holding when he presses ‘reset’ too vigorously with his left hand. "Fuck," he says, sighing and dropping bits of plastic and metal components on the countertop.

Clint rolls his eyes. “Calm down, bionic boy,” he says. Bucky shoots him a glare but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

They both look up when the bell over the door dings and Steve walks in. His three piece suit is covered in what looks like shaving cream and he's affected a deep scowl. Bucky has to put a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as Steve walks up to the counter. "The bathroom attendant in our building offered me a shave," he deadpans.

Clint snorts, "I didn't know those suits were something you grew, but it makes sense," he teases. Steve arches an eyebrow before smacking a shaving cream laden hand down on Clint's half finished sandwich. "Aw man!" Clint says, frowning down at his now soggy food.

Steve looks back at Bucky, "I've decided to take a personal day."

Clint dumps his sandwich in the trash. "Wonderful," he says. "Captain Martyr over here can tell you all about how he punked out like a little bitch." Bucky glares at Clint, who shrugs and leaves. Presumably to make himself another sandwich.

Steve, in the process of unbuttoning and taking off his creamy vest, has an eyebrow raised at Bucky. "Captain Martyr, huh?" he asks, tone weary.

Bucky sighs. "It wasn't martyrdom," he says, but doesn't elaborate. Steve fixes him with his witness cracking stare and Bucky crumbles like a sand castle. "Darcy and I aren't gonna be seeing each other anymore," he mumbles.

Steve closes his eyes. "I..." he pauses. "Jesus Christ, Buck," he breaths out, opening his eyes and shaking his head. "I'm guessing you did something stunningly _selfless_ to run her off?"

"Hey," Bucky snaps, pointing a finger at Steve. "That's your MO, _Cap_ , not mine."

Steve sighs but nods. "Fair point," he says quietly. Then at a normal volume, "So what happened?" 

Bucky glances around the shop again. The two customers are still in their seats, enthralled with their laptops. Bucky waves Steve into his office. "I think one retelling of that story for them is enough," he mutters. They settle onto the couch, Bucky leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. Steve waits, wiping his hands on his ruined vest. "Shit, what is there to say; I panicked," Bucky starts, running a hand over his face. "We were having a lot of fun but then she started telling me that she'd been keeping me away from her roommate because I'm a nut job - " Steve's body tenses and Bucky shakes his head. "My words, not hers." Steve's shoulders loosen and Bucky continues. "And I just..." Bucky pauses and shakes his head again. "All I could think of was Natasha jumping on my back and me pulling her off. Steve, what happens - "

Steve cuts him off. "No, tell me what you did first and then we can reminisce on the beauty of our youth," he says, tone a touch sarcastic at the end but stern.

Bucky nods. "Right. So I ended the date pretty abruptly and when I was walking her home we got into it. She wanted to know what I was so upset about - "

"So of course you told her, 'cause that would be the rational and adult thing to do," Steve interrupts. At Bucky's glare he sighs. "Right."

"Oh yeah, lemme just whip out the story of how I crushed my friend's collarbone and I'm worried I'll do the same thing to her. I'm sure that would go over better than - "

"Whatever you actually _did_ say which I'm betting didn't end up working out either?" Steve cuts him off again. 

Bucky growls, "Will you just let me finish my fucking story?"

Steve puts his hands up. "Sorry. Please, finish," he says.

Bucky fixes his eyes on the back wall. "I told her it wasn't gonna work, that she'd get hurt. She got so angry, pal. She asked me why I even bothered and I - "

"Dude, he told her he wanted to fuck her. I mean, I have been ballsy in my day but - " Clint was in the office now, once more talking through a half-full mouth of food.

Bucky cuts Steve off before he can even get the breath in, "That is not what I said!" he exclaims, speaking quickly now. "I told her I wanted her. I would never say I just wanted to fuck her, God Clint what is wrong with you?" Still, when Steve hauls off and smacks him in the back of the head Bucky can't say he's surprised.

"And how exactly is that better than scaring her?" he asks, calmer than his smack implies.

"Because," Bucky says, rubbing the back of his head. "At least she could kind of hate me for wasting her time. That's gotta be easier."

Steve rolls his eyes and Clint pipes up again, "See, Captain Martyr."

"You did kind of take a page from my book, Buck," Steve says.

Bucky snorts. "Not just the one; she called me a coward," he says. Steve hisses as if he feels the sting himself. He might as well, it wasn't that long ago he was the one being called on his bullshit. "Look, it doesn't matter," Bucky says finally after a pause. "It's done."

Steve shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Buck. You can't pine after someone like that and just let it go," he says. Bucky raises an eyebrow and Steve growls. "I get it, okay. I ran him off, but I am not you and my situation is not something you can use for justification," he snaps.

Bucky sighs. "I'm not," he says calmly. "I'm just saying, sometimes we make the choices we do because they feel like our best option at the time."

"Woah," Clint says, still perched just inside the door. "That was deep. Think I could put it on a bumper sticker?" Then, as he moves away from the wall and spins on his heel to leave the room he throws over his shoulder, "People need something to aim at."

Steve rolls his eyes at Clint's departure but addresses Bucky. "I get that, I do, but - "

"Look, can we not do this?" Bucky interrupts. "Right now, this is my decision."

Steve pauses like he's going to say something and then sighs. "Alright, Buck."

A few hours later Coulson strolls into the shop, gentle smile fixed on his face. “Barton,” he says, seeing Clint wiping down tables near the door. The greeting is so emotionless to Bucky, but the way Coulson’s smile shifts as soon as his eyes land on Clint is anything but. Coulson comes up to the counter. “Could I get a french press?” he asks.

Bucky can’t help rolling his eyes as he turns to put the grinds in the french press.

“What?” Coulson says with a chuckle.

Bucky pours hot water into the contraption. “Planning to hang out until his shift ends,” he says, because it’s not a question, turning back with the press and a cup on a small tray.

Coulson’s cheeks pinken but otherwise his face doesn’t change. “What can I say,” he shrugs, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket. After he pays he takes his tray and settles at a table by the window, where he will stay until Clint’s shift ends two hours later.

Bucky walks a cup of coffee over to Steve, who has legal briefs spread across his largest table. "I thought you were talking a personal day?" 

Steve scrubs both his hands over his face. "This is a personal day," he says, "The cases don't stop because I need to." From anyone else the words might seem like something backhanded, but the way Steve looks up and smiles his most tired smile makes it easy to see he's genuine.

Bucky nods and Steve goes back to his work. Idly Bucky wonders, as he does from time to time, what the man in front of him would have done with his life if it hadn't been for Bucky's accident and subsequent government requisition. Career military would have made the most sense from what he's been told about high school and college; they were side-by-side in both JROTC and ROTC. Steve still had to complete his three years of active duty regardless of Bucky's memory loss that left him the fuzzy kind of useful the government exploited but it was during Steve's active duty that he realized something wasn't right with Bucky's situation. During that time was also when Steve began reading for the bar. Bucky doesn't know how he did it, but he found a judge that would work with him. Whenever Bucky asks him about it, Steve says that he was already growing despondent with how military situations were handled. He says that Bucky's service after his memory loss put the final nail in the coffin. Still, Bucky wonders if Steve would have gone after cases like these with such fervor in another world. Bucky doesn't know how many military cases Steve takes, but whatever amount they seem to weigh on his shoulders more and more every day.

Bruce walks into the shop that evening around seven after the rush and Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised as hell. It’s not that he never comes into the shop, Natasha drags him in regularly. And it isn’t like the two don’t get along, Bruce has a smile Bucky believes to be reserved specifically for their interactions. It’s just that to this day, every time Bucky looks at Bruce, he sees a fist repeatedly flying toward his face as his mouth fills with blood.

“Evenin’, Doc,” Bucky says, pushing that thought aside. “What can I do you for?” he asks.

Bruce glances around the shop, the evening's previous hustle and bustle leaving the tables full but the patrons satisfied. When Bruce spots Steve, whom has finally pulled his head out of his work and is watching the two with intense curiosity, Bruce waves. "Oh hey Steve, I didn't know you'd be here," he says, because it's a Thursday and they all know how much Steve works.

Steve smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, I decided to work from the shop today." He looks between the two. "But I have to be honest Bruce, same could be said about you." Steve smiles but Bucky can feel his unease.

Bruce smiles back. "Fair point. I was actually wondering if I might have a chat with Bucky,” he says casually, looking back at Bucky.

Bruce used to wear a ring on his right hand. Bucky remembers.

“Sure,” Bucky says, nodding toward his office before looking at Steve. "Mind watching the register, pal?"

Steve shakes his head, stands, and stretches. "I could use the break anyway, my head is starting to hurt." The words are light, but Bucky knows Steve is watching Bruce like a hawk. 

Bruce smiles at Steve again. "Thank you, I promise I won't take up more than a few minutes," he says, then heads for the office. 

Bucky shares a look with Steve and takes a breath before he follows. “How was your overnight?” he asks once they’re in the office.

Bruce takes it in stride. “It was fine. So far so good, at least,” he says, glancing around the room.

Bucky sits behind his desk and watches Bruce look. After a solid thirty seconds of silence Bucky clears his throat. “Um, what can I do for you, Bruce?” he asks again.

Bruce shakes his head and turns to Bucky from examining the picture on his wall of all of them; Clint, Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, and Sam taken about a year ago in the shop. He gives Bucky an easy smile, “I apologize, I really won't take up much of your time. I wanted to talk to you about last night; Natasha stayed over I believe,” he says.

Bucky tenses. “Yeah, I was having a rough time,” he says slowly, trying as always to gauge Bruce’s features and failing miserably...as always.

Bruce nods, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs in front of Bucky's desk. “I know. I mean, I hope you don’t mind but she told me about it,” he says.

Bucky shifts in his seat, but it isn’t for the reason Bruce might think. “Of course I don’t mind,” he says automatically. And he doesn’t. Except for the part where it’s embarrassing.

Bruce breaks eye contact to glance around Bucky’s office once more, half smile on his face, before he settles back in his chair. “Yes you do,” he says.

Bucky snorts, shoulders actually relaxing. “Yeah, okay. But only in that embarrassing man crying way. Anyway, I’m just glad you still let her come make sure I don’t drink myself into oblivion.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I don’t let her do anything, you know that. Natasha makes her own decisions,” he says, half smile still on his face. "Even still," he pauses. "I don't worry, if that's what you mean," he adds.

Bucky thinks he might elaborate. He doesn't. 

Bruce clears his throat. “She told me you called things off with the girl,” he says softly. The tone change is abrupt, shifting from light to heavy in moments.

Bucky takes in a breath, fidgeting in his seat. “Um, yeah…” he says, unsure of what to say next. 

Bruce doesn’t need filler. "I think you're selling yourself short," he says and Bucky's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Bruce raises a hand. "It's none of my business, I'm very much aware. But I'm also painfully familiar with the issue; you were dealt some bad cards and didn't handle it well," he says, each word settling heavy in Bucky's gut. "When your mind decides it knows what's best for you, you have to find something to fight for. I know what Natasha's stance is on it, she's worried about you." He shrugs, “But I think you’ve grown and I think she’ll have more to worry about if you don’t have anything to keep growing for.”

Bucky isn’t sure what to say once Bruce closes his mouth. None of the options running through his head seem particularly well placed but before he can decide Bruce takes in a breath.

"The way you loved Natasha could never make me hate you," he begins and Bucky's stomach finally drops. "I was scared,” he says. "Scared because she felt enough for you to want to ease your pain."

Bucky's mouth goes dry and he might be dizzy from the way his heart starts pounding, he can't tell from his seat. He fights to keep his expression neutral as Bruce looks at him. He feels like he should speak but he's afraid to move. Afraid to break the spell of the most uncomfortable and honest monologue this man has ever shared with him.

Bruce stares at a point on the wall behind Bucky's shoulder now. "I don't think you love her like that anymore. But I think you could love this girl like you wanted to love Natasha, like you never could and like I always have. " He stands, then, almost abruptly. "Like I said, I won't take up any more of your time and that's my piece."

Bucky is able to formulate words as Bruce reaches the doorway. "Why did you stop in to tell me that?" he asks, question pure confusion because what Bruce is referencing happened four years ago and he's never spoken of it with such straightforward honesty.

"I thought maybe if I came in and forgave you, you might actually start to forgive yourself," he says, as if he was ready for the question. "And," he adds, this time as an afterthought, "I understand you. Your actions. Or at least the fear of something else taking over. I'd be a hypocrite if I said I didn't," Bruce says. “And I know without Natasha I would have drowned in that fear.” 

Then he's gone.

Bucky walks out of the office a little shell shocked to say the least. Bruce's words loop in his head, a jumble of anxiety and acceptance, and even though they were plain English he has a hard time comprehending them. Steve watches him from behind the bar with furrowed eyebrows.

"What'd he want?" he finally asks, gaze hard on Bucky's face.

Bucky stares at the door to the shop, Bruce completely gone by now but his words hanging heavy in the air, "To forgive me."


	5. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jane walks into the apartment first and Darcy is talking before she can finish crossing the threshold. “I can’t believe you would do something like that. For starters, do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? Secondly -- “ Darcy’s voice dies off when Jane steps away from the doorway and Bucky steps into it. Darcy’s sitting in a recliner by their little television with her legs crossed and tucked under her. The chair doesn’t swivel all the way to face the door but Darcy has wound herself around so she can look back at it._  
>     
>  _Darcy’s eyes lock on Bucky and he shrugs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat unexpectedly dry._
> 
> _She frowns but pulls herself out of the chair. "Think showing up here with an apology was your best bet?" Her tone isn't angry, she's genuinely curious._
> 
> _Jane waves from her spot next to the open door, "I think he was hoping I was the golden ticket."_
> 
> _Darcy snorts. "You're the golden pain in my ass," she says, but there's no malice in her voice and Bucky feels hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: So I would have had this up sooner, but I recently moved from Texas to Maryland and the cross-country move ATE me. That being said, we have resolution! 
> 
> While this is technically the last chapter, an epilogue might pop up at some point. Also! I already have a bunch of material for the next story in the series. And ideas! I have so many ideas.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well as the information it provides and as always feel free to leave concrit!

**Friday:**

Bruce's words plague him all night. Well, his words followed by the memory of her collarbone snapping under his metal hand. _Like you never could and like I always have_. Bruce has never laid a hand on Natasha. Not in the midst of a single episode he's experienced, not when he's throwing things at the walls in rage, not even when she's in his space trying to pull him off of somebody. With the reminder Bruce can keep that one thing down when all the wrong triggers fire in his brain, the way Bucky gave up on Darcy makes him ache. Sure, forgiveness should feel fluffy as a cloud but mostly it just feels like a weight. The weight that reminds him he's the cause of his own unhappiness. Climbing out of bed the next day is as difficult as the day before, in Bucky’s opinion, even without the hangover. By eight o’clock he doubly wishes he hadn’t made that climb.

Bucky isn't sure who the petite woman is when she comes sweeping through the door but he knows one thing, she's pissed.

"I'd like to speak to the owner," she says, words clipped, as she reaches the counter. Her arms fold across her chest and she fixes her gaze on a point behind Bucky's head.

He shifts from foot to foot, getting the impression he should be nervous. "Loathe as I am to admit it right now, that would be m - " Bucky doesn't expect the woman's hand to come flying at his face before he can get the entire sentence out. Reflexively he catches her wrist before she can make contact.

She doesn't seem particularly surprised and he's pretty sure she growls at him, "I knew you were the owner for Christ's sake, you have a metal hand. Impossible to miss. I just wanted you to clarify before I - "

"Had the cops called on you for assault and battery?" Bucky lets go of her wrist. "I prefer keeping the dames out of incarceration so why don't we tell me what I did to warrant that slap?"

The woman sets her jaw. "You let my twenty-five year old best friend fall head over heels for you; a man many might deem clinically insane. Then you broke it off with her after she told you I commented on that," she bites out.

Bucky freezes. "You're Jane," he says after a moment. 

"Yes."

His mind fills with all the things Darcy would have told her about Wednesday night...or any of their nights really. Bucky sighs, glancing around to see what customers are in that morning. When he's satisfied he looks back at Jane. "Alright," he says.

This time it's Jane that freezes. "Um, what?" Bucky doesn't think he's ever seen a face go from livid to confused so quickly.

"Not the cops part. But the slap, yeah." Bucky does his damndest to keep a hold on his tongue, feeling suddenly nervous as hell. Thankfully he has learned the taciturn response is his friend.

Jane looks around and seems to deflate. "Oh," she says. Still, once again Bucky isn't surprised when he's struck. "Now, why did you let me do that?"

"Seemed fair," Bucky says, working his jaw out of habit.

Jane shakes her head, regains her focus. "Then you know that you've acted very irresponsibly in - "

That's as far as Bucky's patience stretches. Thin patience. "Okay lady," he says. "Darcy is an adult capable of making her own decisions." He can feel a territorial urge bubbling up inside of him, which is honestly ill timed. 

Jane scoughs. "You clearly don't know Darcy Lewis."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Way I hear it, you get her into a good chunk of her trouble," he says. He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. "Look, I know it didn't go over well, but I did break it off. So I have a hard time understanding why you're here busting my balls," he says, words clipped because the thought makes his chest tighten painfully.

Jane settles back on her heels. "I penciled this into my calendar before you shoved your head up your ass," she says.

Jane's sarcasm throws Bucky. He shakes his head to try and clear it. "You were gonna ream me for letting her," he stutters over the next words, "Fall for me. So what's the issue now?"

"I was at first but after that was over I was going to get you to convince me why you're _not_ a terrible idea for her because she really likes you and you own a damn business so you've got to be relatively stable," Jane snaps. Bucky's jaw clenches and he straightens up involuntarily. "Alright, so start."

"Start what?" Bucky bites out.

Jane sighs. Before she can say another word an obnoxious tone starts blaring from her purse. She pulls her phone out and answers quickly. "Are you - "

Darcy's voice is so loud Bucky can hear it from across the counter. "Leave. There. Now." She isn't yelling but the words seem to resonate. "I swear to God, Jane - " 

Jane hangs up the phone and puts it back in her purse. "She seems in good health," Jane says.

Bucky arches an eyebrow. "She seems like she wants to kill you with her mind," he says. 

The bell above the door dings but Jane doesn't move. "Luckily for me she hasn't mastered that particular talent and she won't come in here, so I think I'm safe," she says. 

Bucky ignores the lunge his stomach gives at Jane's last comment and looks at the people now lined up behind her, "I'll be with you in just a moment." Gaze landing back on Jane he makes a motion to wave her aside. "If you go sit down, when I'm done, you know, doing my job, I'll bring you a coffee and we'll work on me saying whatever makes you leave," he says, tone suggesting but forceful.

Jane coughs delicately. "Alright," she says, already eyeing a plush chair by a window with a writing table. 

That one bell is the beginning of an onslaught of students coming from or heading to their morning classes. Bucky brings Jane a couple coffees but doesn't have a chance to sit with her. When Clint finally shows up for his mid-morning shift around ten-thirty there are still students trickling in.

"You were supposed to be here at nine," Bucky snaps when Clint rushes in. "I swear to God, man, you better have a good excuse," he says, eyes barely lifting from the espresso machine. 

Clint takes a couple deep breaths before heading behind the counter to help Bucky finish the last few drinks, seemingly on autopilot. As the last student in what seems like a never ending pool walks away Bucky turns to Clint.

Clint scratches the back of his head. "I really am sorry, dude. I fell asleep in one of those fucking waiting room chairs. There's no light in there, man and I completely spaced on setting any kind of alarm," he says. He sounds dazed.

Bucky swallows, something hollow settling in his gut. "Your story telling leaves something to be desired, pal," he says, but his tone is soft. Probing.

Clint barks out a laugh but it hurts more than laughs should and his hands are shaking. "Phil had a heart attack last night," he says before taking in an equally shaky breath. "And he's in surgery right now 'cause apparently there's a thing they're supposed to do after you have one to stop more, maybe? I don't know." He wipes his palms down his thighs. "So I was thinking I could come in and we could pretend that wasn't happening."

Bucky walks away from Clint. When he picks up the mic for the loudspeaker on the other side of the bar Clint furrows his eyebrows.

"Excuse me," Bucky says, feeling Jane's eyes fix on him from the corner along with the rest of the patrons in his shop. "Due to a family emergency we will be closing early today. Please finish your drinks and leave." He puts down the mic and locks up the drawer. Pulling the keys out he meets eyes with Jane. "Earn your coffee, lock up when they're done." He doesn't pause for her response before he tosses them to her and turns back to Clint.

"Bucky, what the fuck," hisses Clint.

Bucky shakes his head. "You're not going to forget about him, Clint. He's gonna live and he's gonna wake up and you won't be there."

"But if I go and he dies, then I will be there and I think that might be worse," Clint says, wobble in the syllables.

"It's worse if you're not there either way. You'll regret it. Let's go." Clint doesn’t put up a fight when Bucky guides him out to his car, slipping the keys out of Clint's pocket as they go. Furthermore, he climbs from the car of his own volition when they reach the hospital. The problem comes when Bucky asks which way to the OR waiting room. 

Clint shakes his head. “I don’t think I can sit in there,” he says softly, eyes darting around the intake area. Bucky opens his mouth but Clint shakes his head and keeps speaking. “You didn’t _hear_ him, Bucky. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone in so much pain.”

Bucky settles his hands on Clint’s shoulders. “But now he's sedated with the nice surgeon watching him and you need to be there when that surgeon comes out,” he says, shaking Clint a bit. “Where do we go?”

"You can follow me," and Bucky has never been so happy to see Bruce come up behind Clint.

"Is Natasha in the waiting room?" Clint asks Bruce once he turns to face him. 

Bruce nods. "She's keeping watch for you," he says, fingers wrapping around Clint's upper arm in a gentle but firm and steadying grip. Then they're walking and Bucky can't shake the image of a nurse helping an ailing patient down the hallway.

There isn't much to do in the OR waiting room. It's smaller than a normal hospital waiting room. The TV plays a bad game show rerun surrounded by chairs that look soft but there is only so much softness one can expect from something designed to be sprayed down with disinfectant every hour. There are wobbly tables with wobbly chairs and someone tried to make it comfortable but the throw pillows are too big for the chairs and the potted plants aren't cutting it. Later, when fear has sent Clint retreating into sleep once more against Natasha's shoulder, Bruce tells Bucky they tried to convince Clint to call him. They said he would understand. When he disappeared just after that, they figured he'd gone to get a little space.

Bucky tells them he closed the shop when Clint told him what was going on, kicked everyone out and left a random woman with the keys.

They stare at him and Bucky chuckles. "Darcy's roommate came to talk to me. I didn't get a chance before then I figured, fuck it." They keep staring at him and Bucky knows Natasha thinks he can't see her texting furiously with her eyes still on him.

The surgeon comes out then, somber but not disappointed, and Clint opens his eyes just before they all stand. 

There was a complication. 

Phil died. 

His heart stopped beating and he wasn't there anymore.  


Until he was; all fight and perseverance because Phil Coulson is those two qualities personified. Clint cries and Natasha cradles his head against her shoulder. Bucky feels the weight of being too close to something so personal. 

That's when he sees it, like clear blue sky and years of being someone's stray. Bucky meets eyes with Bruce and gets his affirmation; this is what it looks like when Bucky is rattling apart and Natasha ties him together. This is what it looks like to be adopted by this woman, to be made one of her charges. Bucky just moved too close to the spark. 

The surgeon tells them Coulson is stable but he can't have any visitors. However a family member can stay with him. 

Clint runs a hand down his face, brushing tears onto his shirt. "Um...his sister is in Annapolis. I called her but she can't get in until tonight," he said distractedly, glancing behind the surgeon to the double doors he exited through. 

Bruce pipes up from behind him. "Sir, and of course you'll correct me, but I believe domestic partnership would constitute family in this instance," he says.

The surgeon directs a small smile at Clint, "Yes, you're correct." 

Clint and the surgeon disappear through the double doors and Bucky feels like someone let the air out of him. Bruce and Natasha are already having a quiet conversation in the corner. When they notice Bucky watching they turn to him, "You should get back to the shop. We'll stay here for Clint and Phil."

Bucky arches an eyebrow, "It's been like five hours. I don't think you're gonna get the other side of your intervention."

Natasha rolls her eyes and actually elbows Bruce in the ribs. "I knew you weren't just going for a walk," she hisses. Bucky has to bite back a laugh. No wonder Bruce was so quick to leave; getting one over on Natasha is damn near impossible.

Bruce smiles his most patient smile. "And I appreciate you not following me anyway," he teases. Natasha's lips press into a thin line but Bruce is already looking at Bucky. "She's still there. We don't know why, but she is. You should at least get your keys back."

Natasha begins muttering. "That's what you're going with? Honesty and key retrieval? Why do I try." She shakes her head. "Fine." She looks at Bucky. "You will go back and get your keys. Then, you will follow that nice, concerned woman home and you will make up with that little girl because you are being _fucking_ ridiculous." She points at the double doors, "That is pain and fear; waiting to see if your lover dies." If Bucky didn't know Natasha so well he would miss the catch in her voice or the way Bruce's hand brushes her arm. "You are very lucky, don't you dare waste that."

It's been a long time since someone made Bucky feel that small and that stupid.

Bucky returns to the shop six hours after he hands the keys off to Jane. He's greeted by two things; a fresh pot of coffee and Jane still sitting at her table with work spread in front of her. 

She stands when she sees him come in. "The place is totally shut down. Except for that pot of coffee." She points. "I didn't want to leave everything running and I wasn't sure how to turn things off but then your friend Steve showed up."

Bucky runs a hand over his face and heads for the coffee. "Fuckin' psychic woman," he mutters. "And why are you still here?" He's clearly lost the energy for tact and he doesn't have it in him to feel guilty about that. Natasha's words are pinging around in his head now, all he can think about.

Jane walks toward the counter as she speaks. "I watched you all morning; I watched you wave off money from hard up regulars and I'm pretty sure you fed six homeless people by ten. You remembered almost every person that walked through that door. And when that man told you why he was late, you kicked all of those people out and left with him."

"Your point?" Bucky asks with a sigh before chugging a cup, heedless of the temperature.

"I think you're a good man. So why don't you think you have the right to fight for her?" Jane asks, leaning on the counter.

Bucky pauses with the pot halfway to his cup for a refill. He doesn't say anything at first but then he puts the pot down and gives the most pathetic, frustrated sigh. " _What_?" he says.

"She tells you I run my mouth one time and you decide I'm right, it's too much," Jane says. Bucky sucks in a breath and Jane shakes her head. "No, hear me out. You are clearly not a person that just plays the hand you're dealt. You do what you think is right and you fight for your choices. Is she not worth that effort?"

"Of course she is," Bucky responds without pause. "And she's getting it. Lots of effort. The effort it took to not follow her home the other night; to not offer to try. Because in my experience, other people's bones get broken in my healing process." But even as the words come out he's thinking about his conversations with Bruce, Steve, and Clint the day before. All the talk of _fighting_. He's hearing Natasha's anger as she basically tells him to get over himself.

Jane sighs and walks to her things to pack them up. Bucky watches her but he's not really watching her. With her bag on her shoulder, she looks at him. "I think you're underestimating her," Jane says. 

The words hit Bucky low in the gut and he speaks when she's halfway out the door.

"Do you think if I showed up at the apartment with you she'd tase me?" he asks.

Jane smiles. "Only one way to find out," she says. Bucky grabs his jacket and hits the light switch.

Jane walks into the apartment first and Darcy is talking before she can finish crossing the threshold. “I can’t believe you would do something like that. For starters, do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? Secondly -- “ Darcy’s voice dies off when Jane steps away from the doorway and Bucky steps into it. Darcy’s sitting in a recliner by their little television with her legs crossed and tucked under her. The chair doesn’t swivel all the way to face the door but Darcy has wound herself around so she can look back at it.

Darcy’s eyes lock on Bucky and he shrugs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat unexpectedly dry.

She frowns but pulls herself out of the chair. "Think showing up here with an apology was your best bet?" Her tone isn't angry, she's genuinely curious.

Jane waves from her spot next to the open door, "I think he was hoping I was the golden ticket."

Darcy snorts. "You're the golden pain in my ass," she says, but there's no malice in her voice and Bucky feels hope.

"So more like an egg, then?" Jane asks, shutting the door behind Bucky when he finally moves inside.

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Go to your room, egghead."

"Yes ma'am," Jane says with a nod. Still, before she closes her door she comments, "You'd think you were the wise boss lady." Her bedroom door shuts with a click.

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest and Bucky’s mouth goes dry as well. “You’re gonna have to give me a little more than, ‘I’m sorry’,” she says, voice softer than he anticipated.

Bucky nods. “I know,” he says, volume matching hers. “I’m - “ He cuts himself off and pauses. After a moment he begins again. “You’re right; I’m a coward,” he says. 

To his surprise Darcy shakes her head. “No, you’re not. That wasn’t fair,” she says. Bucky furrows his eyebrows as Darcy continues quickly. “Being scared of something doesn’t make you a coward. Letting that fear run you, _that_ makes you a coward, and you’re here so I gotta think that was wrong,” she says. Then she shrugs, "Plus, Jane just beat me to the shop. I figured I had the weekend before I went back in with the pursuing."

Bucky pauses again to process what she’s said and then he shakes his head. “Crap, Darc. You’re kind of running all over my apology game,” he says with a grunt.

Darcy laughs and Bucky fights a smile. He loves that sound. “Sorry." She clears her throat, glancing down at the floor. When she looks up it's to latch eyes with him. “I don’t need you making decision to keep me safe. I make my own decisions and while they may not always keep me safe, at least I know they’re mine. I should have said that to you Wednesday night instead of bailing. I think you would have understood,” she says, words clearly practiced.

“I would have,” he agrees softly, gaze sinking to her toes. "But I still would have argued with you," he adds. Darcy shifts side to side a few times before Bucky clears his throat and raises his head. "Coulson had a heart attack today," he says just as softly. Darcy's eyes widen but she doesn't say anything so he keeps going. "He's okay, he's gonna be fine, but he had a heart attack and Clint sat in the OR for hours trying to keep his shit together. That was hard to watch. Then he couldn't, and that was harder to watch. But before all that he tried to come to work and go about his day." Bucky shakes his head, "I couldn't let him, told him he can't just ignore things and hope they go away." Bucky shrugs. "I think Clint and I have a similar issue there and I have some things I need to deal with, some me shit, that's gonna eat into this. I don't exactly know how to keep that from happening." He pauses and sighs. "Well I do but it involves a lot less of you and a lot of me incredibly unhappy and hungover," he says. "So, part of this is me trying to keep you safe. But, part of this is the run off of some extremely messed up shit." Bucky scratches the back of his head. "I just - I - " Here Bucky's at a loss for words and to his surprise, constant joyful surprises, Darcy smiles and takes a step toward him.

"Want me so badly?" she asks, tone mocking.

"God yes," he breaths, his shoulders sagging.

Darcy looks like she wants to move closer still, but she stops herself. "I can deal with some run off, but I can't deal with you deciding what's best for this thing and then just going for it."

Bucky nods. "Then in the vein of full disclosure, I'm gonna go back to group. Let some other people help me with the shady parts," he says, gesturing toward his head with his left hand.

Darcy's smile is kind, "That'll be good for you." Just as Bucky's shoulders begin to tense again with the urge to move toward her, she gives him a nod. "I promise not to tase you," she says and it's all he needs.

Rather than embracing Darcy, when he reaches her he throws her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She squeals and Bucky heads for her room. "I kind of just figure, we could have a big sweeping reunion where your roommate can watch us or I could take you to your room and eat you out."

"Gross!" Jane yells from the other side of the apartment.

Darcy begins laughing. "Onto option number two!" Bucky pushes open the bedroom door with his foot, both hands occupied. "If you drop me I swear to go - AH!" Darcy squeals when he tosses her on the bed.

Then Bucky's pressing Darcy into the mattress, lips fastening to hers, and he feels like he can breathe again. He didn't know he was suffocating, but now the air's so clear he doesn't know how he missed it. Bucky slides down her body and Darcy sucks in a breath. 

"Did you think I was joking?" he mumbles against her hip bone as he unties the drawstring of her pajama pants.

"Mmm. I thought you might be all talk," she says, clearly fighting to keep her tone unaffected. Bucky nips Darcy's hip and she gasps. Reflexively she lifts her hips so Bucky can slide the pants down her legs. Then Bucky's mouth is on her and they don't speak anymore. She makes little noises and gasps and he hums from time to time, but they don't speak.

Forty-five minutes later the two are lying in Darcy's bed curled around each other when she asks, “What were you so scared of?” Darcy whispers into the darkness, fingers tightening around Bucky’s right wrist. "I mean, I'm all for the, 'My brain made me do it' defense. But something set that off and I think I need to know what." Her words are softly spoken but stern nonetheless.

Bucky heaves out a shaky sigh. “A few years ago I slept with my friend Natasha,” he answers, having already decided that he'll just go all in, and Darcy’s grip loosens.

“Okay…” she starts.

Bucky slips an arm under Darcy and holds her against him. “Just hear me out,” he says against the side of her head, mentally running through the words he'd practiced on the way over there.

Darcy snorts. “Fine,” she says, relaxing in his hold.

Bucky takes a deep breath. “I’d spent the years since my accident, and all the things that came with it, holding my problems so close to the vest that it was all pretty shaky. Natasha was always there, making sure I didn't vibrate apart. But something happened and we got, er, too close,” he begins. “Natasha knew it was bad as soon as it happened, she saw the way it sat with me, but she was pretty adamant that I not tell Bruce. I think she just knew we made a mistake and hoped it would go away. One night a couple weeks afterward I showed up to their hotel room at this conference they were attending. I couldn't take the guilt or whatever was going on in my head. I drove all night. When he opened the door it all came out; what happened, when, why, how sorry I was. Except,” Bucky pauses to clear his throat. “This was before Bruce’s last diagnosis. So, where the Bruce now would invite me in to try and suss out what happened, that Bruce wasn’t so inclined.” He lifted a hand to his nose, feeling the bump automatically. “I think he had me on the ground in seconds, bionic arm or not, beating my face in,” he says. Bucky shakes his head, “When I pushed him off I went after him, tried to get my left hand around his throat. Natasha jumped on my back and when I pulled her off I crushed her collarbone.” Bucky knows Darcy can feel the shiver that runs through his body because she squeezes his wrist again. The pressure keeps him calm. He coughs. “I don’t remember anything after that. They told me I left. Steve found me later on a military base in Paramus trying to hack into my file.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. His next words are slow, measured. "I've been dangerous, and you should be aware of that. But _you_ don't have to be scared of me. I promise you don't have to be and I'm sorry if I made you feel like you should."

He feels her smile against his shoulder. "I know," she whispers. Bucky steels himself when Darcy inhales to speak again, "And even if something does happen, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He wants to argue with her, tell her she doesn't need to worry, but then she shrugs, "I mean, Christ dude, you're only human." And while he still wants to tell her he'd never hurt her, and he will never hurt her, he still appreciates her saying it. "Was that the last time you blacked out?" she asks.

Bucky nods. 

"And this is the Natasha and Bruce still fully immersed in your life?"

Another nod.

Darcy's quiet for a moment. Bucky can feel her eyelashes moving against his shoulder. "I think..." she pauses again before pushing on. "I think I wanna meet them." Bucky doesn't expect that in the least and the surprise must show on his face because when Darcy looks up at him she laughs. "It's not 'cause you guys banged, I swear. If I had a nickel for every friend I slept with I'd - " She cuts off abruptly. "I'd have some amount of nickels," she finishes lamely and Bucky laughs. Darcy shakes her head, forehead back against his shoulder. "But yeah, it's not that. I just think I'd like to meet these people that managed to stick around after everything hit the fan like that."

Bucky purses his lips, hearing Natasha's _some other time, James_ in his head. "Yeah, I think we can make that happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, now being edited by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks). <3

**Author's Note:**

> Now being beta'd by the amazing, [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks). That being said, please still feel free to leave concrit! I appreciate any feedback. :-)


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